


got me hypnotised; i'm getting high on the perfume

by nosecoffee



Series: everyone knows, but pretends that they don't see [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Coda to 1x07, F/F, F/M, Jughead's 50's Dream, M/M, The graphic depictions of violence tag is a warning it's not that graphic, ft. Panic attacks and carving knives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-05 18:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10314203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosecoffee/pseuds/nosecoffee
Summary: Wife? Oh dear fucking God, Jughead thinks.Jughead shakes his head, tears the dumb felt cap off of his head and crushes it under his foot - good god who on Earth let him put on these shoes? He pushes up his sleeves, runs a hand through his hair - it's thick with hair gel.Did someone kidnap him? What is going on?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nimmieamee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimmieamee/gifts).



> Title from 'Addicted to You' by Avicii
> 
> This took me five days to write
> 
> I'm actually dead inside, ask any of my friends, they'll tell you. I've been working on this since 1x07 came out.
> 
> (Sugaring Season by nimmieamee definitely sparked this, check it out if you haven't already)
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this.

The meal is so surreal that Jughead knows something's wrong almost immediately. And it's not just that. It's also the tingling feeling he gets in his chest that he's had this dream before.  
  
(Dream?)  
  
If it weren't for the way Veronica was smiling and sighing happily at every little thing every couple of seconds, or the way Jason and Polly smiled across the table, or the way Archie was clutching Veronica's hand but not smiling like rest of them, Jughead might have thought everything was normal, might have ignored it.  
  
Because Betty's holding his hand in a way that feels familiar, but Jason's dead, and Veronica's so in love with Betty that she'd never smile so happily at them like that and - and - and-  
  
Jughead knows it isn't real and he stands up from the table, watches them all tip their heads to the side, in unison, the same curiously creepy smile on their faces.  
  
And he knows it's not real, and he's either hallucinating, or dreaming, but Jughead can't tell, so he edges out from where he was wedged at the table and walks ever so slowly towards the door of the room, keeping eye contact with them as long as he can.  
  
Then, he grabs Veronica's arm and drags her from the dining room, up the stairs, and into Betty's room.  
  
He locks the door, wedges a chair under the handle, and turns to look at Veronica.  
  
Her eyes are blank, smile still in place. She looks utterly hypnotized.  
  
There's a knocking at the door, and Alice Cooper is crooning through the wood, telling him that it's not awfully polite to drag another man's wife into his own bedroom, especially with his own wife downstairs.  
  
Wife? Oh dear fucking God, Jughead thinks.  
  
Jughead shakes his head, tears the dumb felt cap off of his head and crushes it under his foot - good god who on Earth let him put on these shoes? He pushes up his sleeves, runs a hand through his hair - it's thick with hair gel.  
  
Did someone kidnap him? What is going on?  
  
"Veronica," he says, even as Alice asks him to come back downstairs, that Hal is about to start carving. Jughead doesn't know why he grabbed Veronica of all the people around the table. Maybe it's just how she seems so blank that disturbed him and he had to find a remedy. Maybe it's because she's not afraid to say what she's thinking a lot of the time, and she'd be a good member of his survival team should the apocalypse arrive. If it hasn't already. In any case, she's the most rational choice out of his other two options. "Veronica can you hear me?"  
  
He takes her arm carefully, shakes her. She continues to smile blankly.  
  
"Veronica Lodge, I swear to god." He mutters and sits her down on the little ottoman at the foot of the bed. Betty's room - or at least what he thought was Betty's room - it's so different from how he saw it on his brief visit through her window when his mind was skewed and his feeling were a mess. Wife?  
  
It's all old fashioned, 1950's like Veronica's pencil skirt and bangs - bangs? Veronica doesn't have bangs - and his sweater.  
  
What is happening?  
  
"Talk to me." Jughead whispers, kneeling in front of the raven-haired girl. She stares over his shoulder, eyes unseeing, like a robot. There appears to be one course of action he can take before he gives up on her.  
  
Well, two.  
  
He could kiss her, but his mind isn't a hurricane anymore, so it's off the table.  
  
The sharp sound of skin on skin is abrupt in the otherwise quiet room, as well as Veronica's sudden yell of, "MotherFUCKER."  
  
Jughead grins as he watches her recover from the slap, rubbing her cheek with a pissed off expression.  
  
"What the FUCK was that for, Jones?" She growls, blowing her bangs out of her eyes in annoyance - before frowning in confusion.  
  
"Had to make sure you were alive," Jughead replies as she looks around the room in curiosity. "It was like you were a 1950's housewife robot."  
  
Veronica squints at him. "Where are we?" She looks down at her lap, scoffs at the pencil skirt, and then reaches out and pinches his sweater before pulling away. "And what are you wearing? What am I wearing? What on gods green Earth is going on?"  
  
There's another knock and Veronica stands up so abruptly, she knees Jughead very softly in the nose and he sits back, clutching it in morose pain.  
  
This time, it's Hal, asking them to come back down, and please do be sensible, if they are, in fact, having an illicit affair.  
  
His footsteps fade away and Veronica helps Jughead to his feet. "Jughead."  
  
He shrugs and releases his nose. "I don't know what's happening. I think it's a dream, but it seems too real to be a dream. Hypnotism? Social experiment? Derren Brown?" Veronica shakes her head, tosses her headband across the room somewhat disgustedly. "This makes no sense. Did he say 'illicit affair'? I'm not married." She looks at her hand and blanches at the wedding ring sitting on her ring finger, Jughead does the same thing, mutters a soft "what the fuck".  
  
He swallows. Wife.  
  
"Well, we're not married. He said affair, though he seemed pretty calm about it. Who am I married to now?" Veronica examines the ring, even going so far as to pull it off, and turn it between her thumb and index finger.  
  
"Archie is my guess, considering that he was holding your hand at the dinner table before I grabbed you and dragged you up here." She looks up as Jughead speaks, and then sits back down on the ottoman, sliding the ring back onto her finger.  
  
"Speaking of, where is here? Who was the guy?" She glances at the chair wedged under the door handle, looks back down at Jughead's hands. Down at his wedding ring. God, this is so surreal.  
  
He thinks he must have taken a lot of drugs or something to be having a dream like this. Or whatever.  
  
"You ask a lot of questions. I'm surprised Betty's the detective and you aren't." Veronica sighs, smoothing down her skirt and tucking her hair behind her ear.  
  
"Answer the questions, Jug. You seem to be the expert here, anyway. Enlighten me." She gestures around them.  
  
Jughead goes over to one of the bedside tables - detective novels stacked scarily neatly under the lamp, notebooks and newspapers in the drawers, all titled 'Jughead Jones's. He turns on the lamp, throwing Veronica's face into stark, jagged shadows.  
  
"We're standing in what I believe is Betty's room. Right here, right now, it looks to also be mine. It looks like, and I can't be sure," Jughead picks up the wedding photo on the dresser, and then puts it down, with the picture face down, "that Betty and I are married."

~

Fred sighs as he opens another box of cassettes. Mixtapes of ABBA and Michael Jackson, and a bit of Billy Joel, and the Cranberries.  
  
Written in permanent marker, by a familiar hand.  
  
The boys are asleep in Archie's room, and the day's been so long that Fred just needs a hard beer and a good sleep.  
  
Except that it seems to be evading him. That, and FP's sudden presence is fucking with his head, makes him feel sick at the thought of liquor.  
  
Fred supposes that's what he gets.  
  
It's what he deserves.  
  
FP made him so many mixtapes in high school, so many cassettes piled into shoe boxes and tied up with stray string and left on his doorstep in the dead of night.  
  
Always signed.  
  
He always kept them. The sentimentalist in him is secretly a hoarder.  
  
Fred remembers the easier days, the days when FP didn't stagger into places, when his eyes weren't bloodshot, when he hadn't lost a son, a wife, and a daughter in such quick succession.  
  
'Doesn't matter if you let Jughead drown too.' Archie had said, and something tugs at Fred's lungs. Something long-drawn and painful.  
  
Fred swallows thickly, starts to methodically put the cassettes back in the shoeboxes, clear up all the mess he'd made in the attic.  
  
Fred walks down the stairs and peeks into Archie's room.  
  
Jughead's bed is empty.  
  
Fred opens the door wider, never mind the way it whines in protest. He searches in the dimness for the teenager, and his eyes zero on the lump in Archie's twin bed that's hardly big enough to hold the boy himself. Jughead is curled up, face in Archie's chest, Archie's arms around him, pulled close, under the covers.  
  
Fred closes the door, and sighs, leaning against the wall.  
  
Takes out his phone.  
  
**1:27 am**  
you up?  
  
**1:28 am**  
want to talk about today?  
  
He waits. Breathes deep. Wonders if he's so deep asleep that he'll only get the messages at noon tomorrow.  
  
His phone buzzes, nonetheless.  
  
**1:30 am**  
why would i want to talk to you, especially at an hour like this?  
  
Fred bites his lip, thinking of the careful scrawl on the cassettes.  
  
**1:31 am**  
maybe i don't think you want to talk to me. i found all the cassettes you made me. want to come over and listen to them?  
  
Fred wonders of its a mistake, having that man in his house, his black haired son curled up in Archie's arms, so safe and protected there in that bubble.  
  
**1:33 am**  
feeling sentimental?  
  
He grimaces.  
  
**1:33 am**  
awfully  
  
There's a moment of nothing. And then-  
  
**1:35 am**  
i'm on my way, and i expect that banana bread your son was bragging about earlier  
  
Fred shuts off his phone and fetches one of the shoeboxes from the attic.

~

"Married, you say?" Jughead turns the ring on his finger, and imagines what that may entail. Betty's face flashes through his mind, the dazed look on her face the moment after the first time he kissed her, imagines her stomach ballooned up to the size of Polly's.  
  
Jughead shakes the images away, as his stomach does a few unwanted backflips.  
  
Jughead doesn't want to know what that entails either.  
  
He nods at Veronica. She's over by the closet now, pushing dress after dress across the pole the hangers are on. "Yeah. Apparently in dreamland that can happen, and apparently, when you grab another woman by the wrist and drag her upstairs abruptly, that's code for 'illicit affair'. And that's totally normal, and forgivable, and not worth freaking out over."  
  
Veronica waves an absentminded hand in his direction. "Stuff was weird in the 50's. Segregation was a thing, and Kennedy was president." She turns with a pink dress and rolls her eyes at it, putting it back. "You don't think he's been shot yet, do you?"  
  
"In our reality, he has. Also, this entire house is a little too Edward Scissorhands for me." She has a calculating look on her face, holding a pale green dress on a hanger in her hands.  
  
"What's the S stand for?" She asks.  
  
"Huh?" Jughead replies in confusion.  
  
"On your sweater." Veronica clarifies. "What does the S stand for?"  
  
Jughead looks down and clicks his teeth together a few times. "'Suck my dick'." He decides on.  
  
Veronica laughs. He wrinkles his nose as she presses the dress against her form and looks at her reflection in the mirror. "That isn't your colour."  
  
Veronica scoffs, dropping the dress. "Everything in the closet is goddamn pastels. What am I supposed to do, Jug?"  
  
He purses his lips and looks through the dresses. She's right; all of them are pale blues and pinks and the occasional yellow. It's almost sickening how 50's aesthetic it is. Almost sickening how Betty it all is.  
  
There's a red dress, crammed up one end of the closet, and Jughead pulls it off the rack. He gives it a cursory glance before tossing it to Veronica and telling her to knock herself out.  
  
"So, we gonna climb out the window, Romeo?" Veronica asks, as he watches her blouse get tossed over the ottoman.  
  
"Well, considering that I woke you up as I did, I wanna see if I can do the same to Betty and Arch." Jughead replies, ignoring the way his stomach flips again, and especially ignoring her pencil skirt go flying across the room.  
  
"Smart. If it works?" Veronica prompts him, the sound of fabric sliding tightly against skin filling his ears.  
  
"Take them and make a run for it, go to Archie's, or yours, if needed."  
  
Jughead hears her sigh and turns around to zip up the dress for her.  
  
"And if it doesn't?" Veronica turns, smoothing down the fabric of the laser-red skirt. Jughead wonders when she got a petticoat out, but doesn't voice this. If it really is Dreamland, he shouldn't even be surprised.  
  
"Make a run for it without them. Make a plan. See if we can wake up. See if we even need to, all Inception style." Veronica purses her lips, raises an eyebrow.  
  
"Are you suggesting we kill ourselves in an attempt to wake up, even though we don't even know for sure if we're asleep or not?" She asks, an unimpressed expression gracing her features and quirking her lips.  
  
Jughead shrugs. "I never said it was a perfect plan." He defends, but it's half-assed.  
  
"Damn right." Veronica agrees and loops her arm through Jughead's, bending down to pick up Jughead's crushed crown cap. He begrudgingly lets her put it on him again. "We have to look presentable. Or, presentable in a 'we just had sex' kind of way, if we're going off Hal Cooper and the illicit affair cover story."  
  
Jughead nods, absentmindedly, remembering a scene from Inception - one with an elaborate scheme and a window and two hotels conveniently right next door to each other - moving the chair out from under the door knob.  
  
"Are we putting up the 'we just had sex in Betty's marriage bed' cover? If they ask, that is." Veronica asks. Jughead's stomach curdles. Does another backflip and Jughead's actually ready to stab himself.  
  
"Yeah," he murmurs. He opens the door, closes it behind them and leads her down the stairs.  
  
Jughead wonders if he really wants to convey that he just had sex to the two people who it may matter most to.  
  
Decides that he really doesn't have much of a choice in this case.  
  
They reenter the dining room and Jughead wrinkles his nose slightly at the creepy smiles everyone sends them. He immediately wants to retreat to Betty's room, again. He releases Veronica.  
  
"Our sincere apologies," Veronica says, sitting down next to a frowning Archie. He's really the odd one out at this tea party. "We got caught up."  
  
Alice cocks her head. "Hal carved without you. But we put some on your plates so you wouldn't miss out."  
  
Veronica sends him a look across the table and Jughead sits, obediently. "How thoughtful," he comments. She keeps looking at him. He doesn't know what to say.  
Veronica sighs, disgruntled, and clutches Archie's elbow with both hands.  
  
"Dearest, can I talk to you in the hallway?" Veronica asks Archie.  
  
Jughead casts a glance at Jason and Polly, both focused on their food.  
  
Archie stands up without a word and walks out of the room with Veronica on his arm.  
  
The curdling feeling is back, and Jughead takes Betty's arm carefully. She turns to look at him, smiling her creepy 50's housewife robot smile, and Jughead finds himself missing her normal smile.  
  
"Betty," he says and clears his throat, because he's nowhere as good an actor as Veronica.  
  
Betty stands silently, like Archie, seemingly understanding what Jughead wanted to convey.  
  
They walk out of the dining room, and Jughead tries to ignore the burning feeling in his back at the four pairs of eyes boring into him as he leads Betty away from the actually weirdest dinner he's ever been to.  
  
There's a slapping noise, and Jughead hears Archie say, "Oh my god, Veronica, what the fuck!"  
  
Jughead nods to himself, happy with the results.  
  
He pulls Betty into the entryway and holds both her hands in his.  
  
She looks into his eyes, and Jughead shakes his head at the images that pop up again. What it would mean to live like this. That he doesn't want that at all, but would never dare admit that to her.  
  
"Betty," Jughead shakes her hands minutely. She smiles. "Fuck. I didn't want to have to do this."  
  
She swears colourfully, after the abrupt contact, bent over and when she stands back up straight, slaps him right back in the face.  
  
Jughead groans in pain and nods. "Yeah, I guess I deserve that."  
  
"Why on Earth did you slap me?" Betty demands and it soothes Jughead's nerves just a little to hear her talk normally, see her angry, instead of blank and creepy.  
  
"You were all brainwashed. No other way to make it stop." He replies. Betty glances around them.  
  
"This is my house. What - I was at Veronica's - what's going on?" She zeroes in on Jughead. He gulps.  
  
"That's what we're still trying to figure out." He replies and takes her hand, leading her up the stairs.

~

FP arrives maybe fifteen minutes later, looking tired beyond belief, and maybe a little drunk.  
  
Fred rolls his eyes and opens the door wider for him. The other man stumbles into the kitchen and seats himself at the island bench.  
  
"So," FP begins and turns to Fred, "where's my banana bread?"  
  
Fred grunts in response and rummages briefly through the fridge for the cling-wrapped loaf. He has no idea where Archie picked up his baking skills - Mary couldn't cook to save her life, and Fred honestly isn't much better, so he's really just assuming he's self taught - but he's had some of his cupcakes, and his brownies, and he's pretty damn good.  
  
FP nods as Fred places it on a cutting board and unwraps it, cutting two slices off with a breadknife that needs sharpening. He passes the other man the slices.  
  
Guesses he's been drinking, but not eating, by the way he starts to sober up.  
  
"So," FP says, again, when the slices are gone and there are crumbs on his collar. "What's wrong?"  
  
Fred grimaces, leans back against the stove, and pats Vegas affectionately on the head. "What makes you think something's wrong?" He replies.  
  
FP rolls his eyes, still bloodshot, and drags the cutting board towards him. He cuts a few more slices. "Please, old man, you're an open book, same as your son. I've always said so." He points at Fred with his index finger as he takes a large bite. "Something's up, and you used my vague need for nostalgia to get me here to talk about it. So, how about you go and get your cassettes, put one of them on, and we'll talk about it?"  
  
"Is this what you're like when you're drunk?" Fred questions, ignoring FP's second eye roll of the night. He knows what FP's like when he's drunk, so he's expecting the response that arrives.  
  
"No, this is me sobering up. Go get your cassettes, Fredhead. It hasn't been so long that I've forgotten who you are." There are crumbs on the counter from where FP let them spill from his mouth as he chews and talks, and it makes Fred itch a little, but he knows FP won't leave him be unless he does as he asks.  
  
It's bittersweet that way.  
  
"It's Jughead."  
  
FP looks up abruptly, eyes sad, face sagging at his son's name.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" FP spits, swallowing his mouthful.  
  
"I know he's your son. I know. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with him. Quite the opposite." Fred leans on the door jamb and sighs, runs a hand across his face like he's seen Archie do countless times. Family trait, he supposes, like the Jones's and their nose-rub thing. He's seen Jughead do that many a time as well.  
  
"I didn't see it before, but now it's very clear to me." FP sends him a pointed look that says very clearly get on with it. "Archie's in love with him."  
  
"Bullshit." FP states.  
  
Fred shrugs. "'Fraid not. It's very clear; Archie's an open book, like you said. I'd be a fool not to see it."  
  
"Well, you are a fool, Fred. My son ain't a-"  
  
"If you say 'fag' I'm throwing you out of this house and never allowing you in again." Fred warns and watches the other man fume.  
  
"I'm not a fucking vampire, Andrews-" He spits and Fred rolls his eyes.  
  
"I never implied you were." He defends, watches FP scowl in a way that twists his features, unpleasantly.  
  
"You implied that my son was gay." FP states.  
  
Fred shakes his head. "I never said that. I said my son cares deeply for yours. And I'd think that over if I were you."  
  
"Well, you're not me. You don't know me, anymore." FP tells him, matter-of-factly.  
  
"I know who you used to be," Fred retorts, watches FP blanche, "and I guess I'm appealing to him."  
  
FP stares at him, silent. And then, "Go get your cassettes. If I'm gonna be crying here, I may as well have a cover story." His voice is quiet.  
  
Fred nods and ventures up the stairs.  
  
He wonders, briefly, fleetingly, if FP knows that Jughead's here.

~

Archie and Veronica are already in Betty's room when Jughead and Betty arrive.  
  
Jughead stops himself from sighing in relief.  
  
He turns on the light and closes the door, wedges the chair under the handle in case any of the Coopers left downstairs decide to come snooping in their robotic-trance state.  
  
"So, Mr. Detective," Archie begins.  
  
"Or, Mr. Cooper, if you so prefer." Veronica interjects, sending Jughead the kind of grin that makes him want to - well - be anywhere else, if he's being honest.  
  
Both Betty and Archie look confused and Jughead dreads having to repeat what they know of what he's officially calling Dreamland.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Archie casts curious looks between Veronica and Jughead.  
  
Jughead sighs. "Technically, wherever we are - whenever we are - Betty and I are married." He stands the photo back up, allowing everyone to see the everything-but prim and proper wedding photo of the two laughing, and holding each other.  
  
A series of emotions run across Betty's face. She twists the ring on her finger and then looks down at it.  
  
"Also, technically, Veronica and Archie are married." The two look at each other and Veronica waves before grimacing. Jughead tosses them another photo from the dresser, this time the four of them at Veronica and Archie's wedding. Jughead's standing beside Archie, Betty's standing beside Veronica, arms looped together. "We know for sure that we're in Betty's house, everyone's in a trance-like state, Jason's still alive and very part of the family, and it's the 50's. That last bit's a guess. Everyone's chummy, but we're all dressed like the war just ended."  
  
"What do we do?" Betty asks. The other three turn to look at her. She blows the bit of her hair away from her face, irritated. "I mean, obviously this isn't real. Do we just pull an Inception?"  
  
Veronica laughs shortly, putting the photo face down on the bed. "This is why you guys are married in this place. You think so alike."  
  
Archie's frowning, but not like the way he was before. "Is this a dream?"  
  
Jughead bites his lip. "I think so, yeah. But I actually can't be sure that this isn't a Derren Brown hypnotism, social experiment thing."  
  
"If it was, that'd mean that Jason wasn't dead after all, and everything since July Fourth's been an elaborate ruse." Betty comments, crossing her arms across her chest.  
Archie shakes his head. "No, that'd be way too elaborate to be real." He interjects. "And what would we learn from it? 'Don't murder people'? This has gotta be a dream."  
  
Betty points at Archie, turning to look at Jughead, "Solid point. So, what's the plan, Mr. Cooper?"  
  
Jughead purses his lips, unnecessarily annoyed at his new name. "Like you said, Inception style." He taps his fingers on the top of the dresser, trying his level best not to scowl. "And, by the way, I'm all for feminism, but why have we all collectively decided that if we were married, I'd take Betty's name?"  
  
Veronica and Archie share a look and then look to Betty, who's flushed.  
  
"It was a joke..." She begins and trails off.  
  
"Is it that important, Jug? We're kind of in the middle of something here. Can we please focus on the situation and battle it out about names later?" Thank god for Archie, the voice of fucking reason in this mess.  
  
Jughead shakes his head to clear it of the intrusive thoughts - Betty in a white dress, Betty's face in the early morning on the pillow next to his, Betty sitting in a chair, a sizeable bump underneath her dress-  
  
He digs his blunt nails into his palm, inhales deeply. Push the thoughts away, focus on the matter at hand.  
  
"I just don't want it to be real." He whispers and slides down the dresser, onto the floor, knees up near his chest.  
  
Jughead could care less that his three closest friends - maybe only friends, if he's being frank with himself - are watching him melt down, but if it's a dream it shouldn't really matter, should it?  
  
He's crying and looking through his knees - he's looking at the dumb shoes again, and for some reason the sight makes a laugh bubble up his throat.  
  
God, why is he crying? He's supposed to be level-headed and he's just fucking everything up.  
  
_What a failure you are, what a fucking surprise that you failed,_ he remembers a voice yelling.  
  
There's someone crouching in front of him, someone telling him to breathe, telling him to calm down, telling him that they probably don't have much time to figure out what's going on.  
  
It's Archie.  
  
Of course, it's Archie.  
  
Always Archie, always constant.  
  
He hates how he's feeling.  
  
That his stomach curdles when he thinks about Betty - it shouldn't, she's his friend, how could he go and kiss her and ruin it? - and that it flips when he thinks of Archie.  
  
He's a goddamn mess.  
  
"No you're not," Archie assures, and Jughead thinks he must have said it aloud.  
  
"Yes I am. God, I can't - I don't want-" Jughead's gasping.  
  
"Don't want what?" Veronica's soft voice by Archie's shoulder sounds and things start to clear up - ah, there she is, and there, in his peripheral vision is Betty, frozen, watching the scene play out. "What don't you want to be real?"  
  
"This," he chokes out, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his sweater. "I can't live like this. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't."  
  
"No ones telling you you have to, no ones forcing you. Jughead, we're gonna get out of here. We are. You don't have to like this. We're gonna leave. You hear me?" It's Archie again, voice soft, assuring, clutching his shoulders tightly in a way that promises safety and protection.  
  
Jughead finds his breath again, slowly calming down, hiccuping.  
  
He doesn't know how that panic attack came on so fast.  
  
Veronica crosses to the window, unlatches it, and tries to push it up and open. It doesn't budge. Figures.  
  
"What do we do now?" Veronica asks in a hushed whisper.  
  
"We try the first thing they'll expect." Betty replies, her voice at a normal volume level. "We try the front door."

~

The knock at the door surprises both men, after the stiff silence between them, broken occasionally by Elton John on the cassette player, and Fred is the first to recover. FP's still swearing a little when Fred opens the door.  
  
And there's a girl standing on his doorstep.  
  
"Mr. Andrews," she says, and as Fred's eyes become readjusted to the light, he recognises her instantly. Her hair is pulled into a messy pair of braids, underneath a newsie cap, and she's wearing a leather jacket that looks too big for her.  
  
"Jellybean." She smiles.  
  
"Jug told mom that if we ever wanted to come and see him, to come here and ask for him." Jellybean explains, rubbing one arm.  
  
Fred moves aside to let her in, because it's actually freezing outside, and she's not wearing enough layers for it to be tolerable on the porch like that. Her teeth are chattering.  
  
Mary did always say he had a soft spot for kids in trouble, and maybe that's why he keeps sticking his neck out for Jughead and his family.  
  
"He's here, but he's asleep, and judging by the day he's had, I don't want to wake him, just yet." Fred tells her as they walk into the kitchen.  
  
FP's sorting through the fridge and looks up as they walk in. He zeroes on Jellybean and he's rushing forward in a matter of seconds, catching the ten year-old in the most fearsome hug Fred's seen in a while.  
  
"Sythia! What on Earth are you doing here?" He pulls away, hands on her shoulders, giving her a searching look.  
  
"I could ask you the same thing, dad," Jellybean counters, but there's a small smile tugging at her lips. "I'm here to see Jughead, 'cause word made it to where we are, that Jughead got arrested, and taken in for questioning."  
  
FP's expression sours a little. "That he did. Fred here did his level best, and bailed Jug out. Looks like he isn't in any more trouble."  
  
"You did that?" Jellybean asks, and Fred feels his forehead crinkle, because she's much too young to look at him like that, look at him like she owes him something he could never ask her to give.  
  
"Yeah." He agrees.  
  
"Did you walk here from your moms?" FP questions, taking his seat at the island bench. Jellybean takes a seat on the bar stool next to him.  
  
"I took the bus." Jellybean says.  
  
"How'd you pay for that?" Fred offers her some banana bread. She shakes her head.  
  
"Grammy ain't too good at keeping track of her things." She pulls a credit card from the inside of her jacket and then puts it back when she's sure the two men have seen it.  
  
"You stole her credit card?" FP asks, and almost looks impressed before Fred shoots him a warning look and he puts on a more sensible expression.  
  
"Does that count as fraud?" Fred wonders aloud and watches the ten year-old shrug.  
  
"I don't care, I just wanted to see if Jug was okay-" she stiffens very suddenly, eyes wide, head cocked in such a way that she looks like she's inclining her ear towards the roof. Like a dog hearing a strange noise and trying to pinpoint it.  
  
"Jellybean?" Fred asks, watching her narrow her eyes.  
  
FP looks frightened out of his mind. "Sythia, what's going on?"  
  
She turns to them, slowly, a troubled look on her face. "Something's wrong." She states clearly. "Something's very very wrong."

~

Jughead's the first one out of the door, quickly followed by Veronica, then Betty, and Archie covering the back.  
  
They walk quietly down the hallway, and then down the stairs, before they're suddenly faced by Alice, blocking them from the front door. She's holding a wooden spoon.  
  
She'd otherwise look harmless, were it not for her creepy 1950's housewife robot smile.  
  
"You left your food." Alice says and Archie gasps. They turn to see Jason holding him in a headlock, blank look still in place as Archie struggles. "That's awfully impolite."  
  
Veronica looks panicked. "Stop it!" She shouts at Alice, and then turns to Jason, "Let him go!"  
  
"You can't have dessert until you've eaten your veggies," Alice coos and Betty grabs Jughead's wrist, drags him into the dining room as Archie breaks Jason's hold and throws him, with newfound strength, into the wall, knocking him out.  
  
The four teenagers skid into the kitchen and Betty releases Jughead, rushing to a china cabinet and rifling through a drawer.  
  
She pulls out something and grabs a candlestick, putting it on the cabinet. Betty pulls the tablecloth half off the table and smashes the container on the floor, and the corner of the tablecloth. "Lamp oil." She explains to Jughead.  
  
Betty looks to Alice and Hal standing on the other side of the room from them, holding the candlestick aloft.  
  
Everyone freezes.  
  
"Come near us, and I'll burn this place to the ground." Betty threatens them.  
  
Jughead looks at her, at her defiant expression, her bold stance, and almost believes that they'll let them go, until, suddenly, there's a grotesque noise, and Betty jerks, her eyes go wide. Blood begins to drip from her mouth as she coughs and chokes and makes small sounds of pain. She falls, releasing the candlestick and dropping it into the lamp oil.  
  
It immediately lights up the tablecloth.  
  
But that's not what Jughead's looking at.  
  
He's looking at Polly, standing over Betty's body, holding the bloody carving knife that she just stabbed Betty in the back with.  
  
Veronica screams, goes to rush to Betty, and Archie drags her away, picks her up, running from the room as she shrieks at Polly, screams for Betty to get up, claws at him.  
  
Alice rushes after them, but Hal looks across the burning table at Jughead. "How could you let your wife be killed like that?" He questions, voice monotone. Hal begins to round the table. Polly sits down at the table, even as fire catches to her dress. "How could you do nothing to save her? How could you fail?"  
  
It breaks some sort of dam in him - because in some awful part of his mind, he screams that _no one's allowed to call him a failure,_ no one but his father, because that's all he seems to do nowadays - and before Jughead knows it, Hal is on the ground, blood spurting from his nose, and his knuckles are raw and he runs from the burning room and the three bodies that now decorate it.  
  
The fire crackles behind Jughead as he finds Veronica and Archie standing over Alice's unconscious form, struggling to bash down the door that appears to be locked.  
  
Veronica's crying, sobs wrenched from somewhere deep within her. It's clear how much emotional pain she's in.  
  
The shock still hasn't set in, for Jughead, he's still running on fear, and anger, and adrenaline.  
  
Jughead hears a scuffling noise from behind him, and turns to find a little girl in a blue blouse that exposes her shoulders and a navy skirt standing in the room over Jason.  
  
Her hair is out, her face is expressionless, but not robot-blank like the Cooper's had been. She stares at him, a sense of knowing in her dark eyes, the fire reflected in her black, black hair.  
  
"Jellybean," he gasps, and she watches him drop to his knees in front of her, watches him as he takes her limp hands in his, "Jellybean, what are you doing here? You have to get out!"  
  
"Jughead!" Veronica calls his name, but they haven't opened the door yet, so he ignores her. God, how did Jellybean get here? Is she just a pawn, like the Cooper's, or is she here for real, like them? His mind is rushing wildly, like the day he kissed Betty, oh god, Betty-  
  
"You have to get out! Listen to me, get out!" The fire is growing, licking at the doorway, and he drags Jellybean across the floor, away from it.  
  
"Who are you talking to?" Veronica screams, tearing him away from Jellybean with her hand on his wrist. "There's no one there!"  
  
"Jellybean-" she stares at him, and he turns back to Veronica, "she's right there! Can't you see her?"  
  
Veronica hits him over the head just as the door splinters open, and he crumples.

~

Before Fred can ask what Jellybean could possibly mean by her chilling statement, his phone goes off, and he answers with a tired, "Hello?"  
  
_"Fred? Oh, thank god."_ Fred frowns at Hermione's panicked voice on the other end of the line.  
  
"Hermione? Why on Earth are you calling me this late? What's going on?" She's breathing heavily on the line, and he can hear, faintly, in the background, someone screaming and sobbing.  
  
_"It's Betty. And Veronica. I don't know what happened, but suddenly Veronica just started screaming in her sleep. And I think Betty's having a seizure. I don't know, but neither of them will wake up!"_  
  
Fred casts a glance over to Jellybean, she meets it with a steady gaze and then begins to climb the stairs. "Take them to the emergency room."  
  
Hermione feverishly agrees, and Fred hears shouting from upstairs. He looks to FP and there's some sort of nonverbal communication shared between them, and they're rushing up the stairs together.  
  
"I'll call you back, something's going on." Hermione agrees and hangs up and Fred skids into the doorway of Archie's room.  
  
Both boys are tossing and turning, shouting unintelligibly, and Jellybean's at the bedside, holding Jughead's hands in an attempt to keep him still.  
  
"Stop it!" She's shouting and Fred rushes into the room, towards Archie, who's face is contorted in fear and pain, and the weird thing is, he's still asleep. "Stop it, Juggy!"  
  
Jughead suddenly wrenches from Jellybean's grip and hits the corner of Archie's bedside table with his head, slumping to the bedroom floor, just as Archie stills and goes silent.  
  
FP is kneeling by his son in a matter of seconds, pulling him completely from the bed and inspecting his head with heavy breaths.  
  
"There's blood, oh god, Fred, there's blood." FP says in a strained, panicked voice.  
  
Fred turns to Jellybean who looks terrified and says, "Go get my keys and meet us by my pickup. We're going to the hospital."

~

When Jughead comes to, he's slumped in the backseat of Archie's pickup truck, parked in his driveway. He can hear Veronica sobbing, and Archie whispering to her, shushing her.  
  
He can see the Cooper's house burning down from where he's seated. Jughead thinks of the way the light drained from Betty's eyes after Polly stabbed her.  
  
He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to hold back a sob. It seems that he doesn't do that good of a job at it though, because he hears Archie say his name, and feels a firm hand on his arm.  
  
"Arch." He whispers, watching the flames, hoping that this is a dream. Hoping they haven't made an elaborate ruse spin out of control. Hoping Betty isn't really dead. "What do we do?"  
  
Veronica makes a whimpering sound and slams her hands against the steering wheel, repeatedly, grief stricken.  
  
"We can't stay here." Archie replies, voice even, though his face is tearstained. "We have to move. Ronnie."  
  
He goes to put his hand on her shoulder and she flinches away. "Don't." Veronica hisses. "No, I can't do this. I can't. This isn't real, this isn't real, this is a dream, and I just have to wake up." She turns to them, face fierce and emotional. "Get out of the car."  
  
Archie blanches. "What?"  
  
"Get out of the car, Archibald. You too, Forsythe. I'm gonna drive this car into a tree." Veronica states, wiping her eyes and putting the keys in the ignition.  
  
"It's my car!" Archie protests.  
  
Veronica rolls her eyes, "That sounds like a you problem." She states.  
  
Archie stares at her for a long moment. "How can you be sure?" He asks eventually. "How can you be so sure that this isn't real?"  
  
"Because of Betty, Archie." Veronica responds with little hesitation. "If this was real, Betty woulda made it out of there, too. This can't be real, this has to be a dream, because the world wouldn't be so cruel as to to take her away when it did, and how it did. This can't be real because Betty is everything, and I will believe that until the day I die, which may be today, may be a few minutes from now."  
  
She flinches minutely as Jughead leans forward to put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm in. Drive me into a tree, Veronica Lodge, I'd be honoured."  
  
Archie mutters something under his breath and then says, "Yeah, okay, let's pull a goddamn Inception and kill ourselves."  
  
Veronica turns on the car and stares at the gearstick for a second.  
  
"Do you know how to drive?" Archie asks, tentatively.  
  
Veronica scoffs in reply. "What kind of a question is that?"  
  
"Do you know how to drive stick-shift?" Jughead amends.  
  
At this, she frowns. "Yeah, it's a resounding 'no' from me, but it can't be that hard, right?"  
  
Jughead sighs and sits back, watching Archie slowly go through the controls with her, and then they're backing out of the driveway.  
  
"Which tree?" Archie asks.  
  
Veronica points to one a little ways down the road, far enough away that they'll pick up enough speed.  
  
Jughead nods in approval. They sit idling on the road.  
  
"Are you nervous?" Jughead asks her.  
"Is it possible not to be nervous under these circumstances?" Veronica shoots back, in a tired voice.  
  
"Solid point." He agrees and sits back. "Oh, wait! One more thing!"  
  
Veronica turns to shoot him a look, at the same time as Archie, just as Jughead grabs Archie's dumb bow tie and pulls him in to kiss him.  
  
There's no hesitancy, because he knows that they'll either die tonight, or wake up and think it a horrible dream.  
  
When Jughead pulls away, Archie looks dazed, and Veronica looks shocked. "Drive," he advises her.  
  
Veronica puts her foot down on the gas and Archie grabs for Jughead's hand blindly, and Jughead accepts a moment of calm right before the windshield smashes in and Veronica screams.

~

Jughead jolts back into consciousness and immediately feels his head swim in dizziness.  
  
He's so suddenly overcome with the fear that he survived, and that they found him, that he's trapped there, that he can never escape, forever remember Betty's death in such great detail-  
  
"Jug!" The voice is close, and makes him jump, but once his vision clears and he can see who's there he relaxes. Jellybean clutches his hand with a tightness, a sureness she didn't have in the burning house, with a smile she hadn't worn, and it receives him of the fear that he's still trapped in a nightmare.  
  
He's not asleep anymore, that Jughead knows for sure.  
  
They don't smile like that in his head.  
  
"What the fuck happened to me?" Jughead murmurs, glancing around himself. He's in the hospital, and he knows this for sure, and there an IV in his arm.  
  
Jellybean rolls her eyes, blows a strand of hair out of her face. "Doctors say someone put drugs in your food. Gave you rad hallucinations that made you thrash in your sleep. You hit your head on Archie's bedside table and gave yourself a mild concussion. You also had the freakiest seizure in the backseat of Fred's pickup truck. You and Archie. Started at the same time and made dad lose his shit."  
  
"Oh my god," Jughead presses a hand to his forehead. "Drugs?"  
  
Jellybean nods. "The Sheriff thinks this incident might be linked to Jason's murder, considering four kids had seizures tonight for no goddamn reason." She responds, like she's reciting a rather detailed poem.  
  
"You mean to say that Archie, Betty, and Veronica were also admitted?" Jughead looks through the crack in his curtain and sees Veronica in the bed across the room from him. Jughead doesn't think he's ever seen her without makeup on before. It's a little surreal.  
  
Jellybean nods again.  
  
"Jesus Christ, that's rough." Jughead sighs.  
  
"I'm sure you can expect a thrilling article about it in a few days." Jellybean comments, in a mock-happy voice.  
  
Jughead purses his lips. "Unless Alice Cooper wants to keep her daughter and three other kids in town getting drugged under wraps." Jellybean shrugs, giving him a curious look.  
  
"And why would she want to do that, Juggy, when she could have a pretty great article, detailing a personal attack on her family?" He points at her.  
  
"You have a solid point, but I think Alice is just a little more sane or sensible than that." Jughead states. Across the room, Hermione takes Veronica's hand and squeezes. 

Jughead can imagine the panic shed felt at seeing Veronica in pain.  
  
"Why sane 'or' sensible?" Jellybean inquires.  
  
"I can't decide whether she makes bad choices a fuckton or if she's just nuts." Jughead replies with little hesitation.  
  
"I see." Jellybean sighs, just as Alice and Hal cooper run into the room and Alice begins yelling at Hermione.  
  
Veronica and Jughead meet eyes through the curtain and she mouths 'get me out' at him which he returns with a small shake of his head and a grin.  
  
"Where's dad?" He asks after a moment.  
  
Jellybean sighs the way a parent does when their child asks a dumb question, so he's almost expecting the answer that he receives (that or he's just become accustomed to being disappointed in his father). "Went to get coffee half an hour ago. I have no idea." Jellybean tells him and takes his hand.  
  
"Okay." Jughead sighs the way a child does when they expect so much more, but they understand 

~

"Lemme just say," Veronica begins, leaning into her mirror, "that I'm not even surprised."

"About what?" Jughead asks, looking up from the comics he's reading. He's lying on his stomach on her bed, reading a battered Superman comic that she'd pulled out of a box in the corner of her room.  
  
Veronica rolls her eyes, like he's just said the dumbest thing ever. "About you. And Archie. The way you kissed in the pickup." Jughead blushes and immediately feels dumb.  
  
"What are you trying to say, here?" Jughead inquires, trying to convey the tiredness in his bones to her through a few words.  
  
"Are you in love with him?" Veronica sighs, pulling her bottom lid down to put eyeliner on it. It looks uncomfortable, but she does it like it's nothing. Jughead's impressed if nothing else.  
  
Jughead licks his lips, "I think so."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"For how long?" It feels like the wrong question, at least for now.  
  
Nevertheless, he answers, "Years. I think I just I didn't really know it fully until I was faced with..."  
  
Veronica purses her lips, nodding. "Being a Cooper. That's what set you off, wasn't it?"  
  
"Yeah. I guess. The reality of what might happen because I was messing around with Betty, the idea that I could end up like my dad because I was so unhappy with where I was. It was too much. I just freaked." He bites his lip. "That makes sense, right?"  
  
"Yeah," Veronica agrees, "Dreamland was worth freaking out over, and I'm saying this from experience."  
  
Jughead nods in agreement and watches her put on mascara. "I love Betty. I do. I just know that it'll never be good for us. She deserves someone better, someone more invested in her."  
  
"And she's gonna get that someone, because guess who's going on a date with her tonight?"  
  
Jughead feels mildly conflicted for a moment as Veronica grins at him from the mirror. Then he calms, thinking its Betty. She does what she wants, makes her own choices, and that he'll be happier that she's with someone like Veronica, the type of person who'd fight to be with her as she falls if (when) her sister stabs her in the back with a carving knife.  
  
Veronica turns slowly in a circle for him to approve the outfit, and Jughead's actually not quite sure what she's doing asking him for fashion advice so he just gives her a vague thumbs up.  
  
"You know," Veronica says, and Jughead looks back up from the comic book. "I don't believe that it really stands for 'suck my dick'."  
  
He blinks at her, bewildered. "What the fuck do you mean?"  
  
Veronica snorts, putting away all her makeup. "Your shirt."  
  
"Oh," Jughead says, looking down at it. "It stands for 'Souphead'. It's my cousins. I stole it from him ages ago, never gave it back."  
  
Veronica hums something, pleasantly, something that sounds like "What is it with your family and weird-ass names?" and Jughead briefly conjures the image of her staring blankly over his shoulder on the ottoman at the foot of Betty's bed in the dream. He shakes it away.  
  
"Well, I'm off." She announces and places a kiss on his head before striding out the door, all confidence and pearls and _Veronica._  
  
**4:29 pm**  
i'm going to head out to Pop's do i need to pick you up what's happening do you want anything hmu what's the dealio  
  
Jughead reads Archie's text with a fond smile.  
  
**4:30 pm**  
actually, i was just gonna have a night in tonight  
  
His phone chimes almost instantly.  
  
**4:30 pm**  
well then, how about you come over and we listen to some cassettes?  
  
At this, Jughead smiles.  
  
**4:31 pm**  
that, i think i can handle

  
**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I really hope you enjoyed this. If you did, please feel free to leave a comment and/or a kudos, and track me down on Tumblr @nose-coffee.
> 
> Some other notes: I'm so tired can I sleep now is that okay? Okay.
> 
> Again, thanks.


End file.
